Maximum Ride: The Line
by Script Savage
Summary: Itex is gearing up for one last hurrah. It's a one-time-only command performance; a, knock-down-drag-out fight for survival, between yours truly, the Flock, and the latest and greatest breed of supersoldier. And the thing is, I'm not entirely sure we can win, but I'm not going down without a fight. Are you with me? -Max
1. A Rude Awakening

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Alright. No disrespect to JP, but I'm one of those fans who thinks that the _Maximum Ride_ series should have stopped at three. James Patterson is an amazing writer, but I think a good portion of you guys will agree that the last several books in the series just didn't have the same punch...**

**If not, that's cool too. Everyone's entitled to their own opinion.**

**Anyways, this story picks up where STWAOES left off, since that book kind of left us hanging as far as the whole 'Save the World' thing is concerned. Without further ado, I give you _Maximum Ride: The Line_**

_**Chapter I: A Rude Awakening**_

My name is Max.

I'm eighteen. I "live" in Arizona with my mom, Dr. Valencia Martinez and my sister, Ella. Sounds pretty normal right?

That's probably because I forgot to mention the fact that I have wings. Yeah, you heard right. _Wings_. I wasn't born, not like a normal person. I was harvested-genetically engineered while still in the womb and then plucked out to be poked and prodded and tested in all my recombinant glory-I'm two percent bird. I'm stronger and faster and more hardcore than anyone you'll ever meet. And I've got this irritating Voice in my head that keeps telling me I'm supposed to save the world.

I'm a regular Joan of Arc.

Except for the fact that she ended up being burned at the stake; that's something I'm hoping to avoid.

I'm not alone in my quest to save the World As We Know It: even the Incredible Max needs help sometimes. That's what Fang, Iggy, Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel are for.

Fang is my right-hand man. I trust him with my life. He's at least six inches taller than I am, which kind of bugs me a little. He also has this creep-tacular talent of being able to move in with complete silence; great for getting the drop on the bad guys-'cept he usually does it to _me_. He's also the quietest out of all of us bird-kids, and sometimes comes across as a little...well emotionless.

Iggy is our resident pyro, which isn't really that alarming by itself, considering the fact that he's seventeen-a whole six months younger than I am thank-you-very-much- and that most boys have a thing for fire. However, when you factor in the fact that he's, you know, _blind_, it turns into a whole new ballgame.

I know what you're thinking: _Really __Max? __You're __going __to __let __the __blind __guy __play __with __matches?_

And my answer is: Yes.

Why?

'Cause even though he's blind, Iggy has heightened senses. And I'm not just talking the normally heightened senses that come from having a disability like that. I'm talking über-wicked, freaking sonar hearing-he can hear a mouse sneeze from a hundred yards away. And _oh__man_ can that boy cook! His senses of touch and smell combined are so acute that he can make several hundred different meals _from__scratch,_just by knowing what certain measurements _feel_ like. That's just freakin' awesome.

Nudge, who is fourteen, is our car specialist. When the devil-incarnate, Jeb Batchelder was pretending that he actually cared about us, he brought her tons of car magazines to read. You wouldn't guess it from the way she's constantly rambling on about fashion and chicness, the latest Hollywood gossip, but that girl can strip an engine and put it back together blindfolded. And, she can talk her way out of pretty much any situation you can imagine. It comes in handy sometimes, but mostly it's just annoying. But...I love her to bits anyway. (And if you repeat any soppiness to _anyone_ I _will_ find out about it...And you won't like me when I'm angry)

Gazzy (a.k.a. "The Gasman") is Iggy's partner in crime, and as his name would lead one to believe, he has some funky digestive issues. A word to the wise: Stay upwind. Sometimes I think Iggy is a bad influence for him, but he's only eleven, so I can't really blame him for being impressionable; besides, Iggy knows better than to teach Gazzy anything too crazy...I hope. Gazzy is extraordinarily tough for an eleven-year-old, which sometimes makes you forget that he's just a kid, and he needs love and attention just like everyone else. That's not an easy thing to remember whilst fighting for your freedom against an army of genetically-engineerd supersoldiers, but I do my best.

And last but not least, is Angel, my baby girl. She's nine, and like her brother, is incredibly tough for her age. However, she has fits like any normal nine-year-old would on occassion, so sometimes I have to remind her to toe the line. She's a good kid though. Lately, she's beginning to worry me a little. You see, She has the power to...MindJack...a brilliant term from Max Ride Dictionary of Flock Lingo, which basically means she knows what you're thinking, all the time, and she can make you do whatever she wants. It's an ability that's gotten us out of a bunch of pretty hairy situations, but I like to keep tabs on it, just so I know she isn't going to go crazy one day and try to take over the world.

Sheesh, I'm getting sick of all this 'Save, the World' business.

Which is why, when the Voice woke me up at three in the morning with the worst migraine in the history of the entire freaking universe, I was not pleased to hear what it had to say.

*****TL*****

I flopped off the bed with un-Max-like clumsiness, fighting the urge to scream at the top of my lungs. The pain in my head was excruciating, like someone had just driven an electrified railroad spike into my skull.

I barely managed to keep from screaming, even though I knew I'd wake the entire house up by doing so.

_**Sorry,**__**Max.**_ The Voice said, somehow managing to sound sheepish.

_You'd__better__be._I snapped mentally.

_**Max **__**listen **__**to **__**me. **__**What **__**I'm **__**a bout **__**to **__**tell **__**you **__**is **__**extremely **__**important. **__**I **__**know **__**you **__**think **__**I'm **__**a **__**joke, **__**but **__**if **__**you **__**want **__**to **__**be **__**alive **__**tomorrow-if **__**you **__**want **__**your **__**Flock **__**and **__**your **__**family **__**to **__**be **__**alive, **__**I **__**need **__**you **__**to **__**take **__**me **__**seriously, **__**just **__**this **__**once.**_

_ I'm __listening._ I said, actually kind of scared of what the Voice was about to tell me.

_**Itex **__**is **__**growing **__**an **__**army. **__**It's **__**an **__**entirely **__**new **__**race-the **__**ultimate **__**super-soldier. **__**If **__**you **__**don't **__**stop **__**them, **__**they're **__**going **__**to **__**turn **__**the **__**entire **__**world **__**into **__**their own little playground. Anyone **__**who **__**refuses **__**to **__**surrender **__**themselves **__**to **__**science **__**will **__**be **__**executed.**_

_ That __is __seriously __messed __up._ I thought in reply.

_**Exactly. **__**That's **__**why **__**you **__**need **__**to **__**strike **__**first. **__**Catch **__**them **__**flat-footed, **__**and **__**it'll **__**be **__**a **__**lot **__**easier **__**to **__**finish **__**them **__**off **__**when **__**the **__**time **__**comes.**_

_ Okay...What __do __I __need __to __do?_

_** I **__**can't **__**tell **__**you **__**that. **__**You'll **__**know **__**what **__**to **__**do **__**when **__**the **__**time **__**is **__**right.**_

_ What __the __heck __is __that __supposed __to __mean?_ I demanded, but the Voice didn't answer. "Figures." I muttered under my breath, and climbed back into bed, hoping to get at least a few more hours of sleep before the night was over.

I woke up around seven-thirty and forced myself out of bed; old, habits die hard, and I was always the one who got things moving in the morning, back when we lived in the E-shaped house. I shuffled sleepily into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee. I could barely stomach the taste of the stuff, but I needed to wake up somehow.

As I took my first sip, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I flinched, almost spilling my coffee. I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath to calm my racing heart.

"Will you _quit_ that?" I demanded.

Fang chuckled behind me. "Quit what, breathing?"

I rolled my eyes again. "You know what."

Fang dropped into the chair across from me, smirking. "You're losing your edge, Max." He teased.

"Shut up." I growled.

"You look tired." Fang observed, scratching the dark stubble that was beginning to grow on his chin. He brushed some hair out of his eyes-it needed cutting, but I knew he didn't care.

"Yeah...Didn't get much sleep last night." I said, hoping he would drop it; I at least wanted to get through breakfast before I had to get back to saving the world.

"The Voice?" Fang questioned.

I sighed-he knew me too well. I nodded.

"Want to talk about it?" He wondered

I shook my head. "Not right now."

Fang nodded. "You know, there's still Plan B." he said.

"Plan B?" It was too early in the morning for Fang to be talking in code rather than plain ol' fashioned English.

"You, me, the Flock, deserted island paradise." Fang recapped.

I rolled my eyes. I should have known he was going to go there. It's not that I didn't _want_it. I _did._But, I could never let Fang know exactly how bad I wanted it though-for two reasons.

First, because I'd feel like a complete heel if the world went to heck while I kicked back on a beach sipping a tall, cold one, knowing all the while that it was my fault because I wanted to be lazy rather than responsible.

Second, because Fang would never let it go if he knew that I wanted it just as much as he did-and the chances of him doing so now are _already_ pretty freaking miniscule.

"We've been over this before Fang. It just isn't going to happen for me...I have a world to save remember."

Fang's mouth twisted into a scowl, and I felt like a jerk for ruining his good mood. "Right." He says.

And then Ella shuffles into the room, in her blue flannel sweatpants with clouds on them and a loose white t-shirt. "Morning," she croaked. She grabbed herself a coffee mug and slumped over next to me at the kitchen table with a sigh, her hair spreading out across the tabletop in a wild tangle.

Fang chuckled quietly. "You're not a morning person, are you?"

"Bite me." Ella grumbled, looking up with bloodshot eyes as she nursed her cup of coffee.

Iggy dropped into the chair next to Ella and dropped a kiss on her head. "Morning beautiful." He said.

"Morning, babe." Ella replied, stretching up to kiss his cheek as crossed her legs on the seat and curled into his chest with a contented sigh.

I mentally debated whether adding a booth-seat to our kitchen table was a good idea, since seeing Ella and Iggy do this kind of thing weirded me out, but then I figured I was being hypocritical-if Fang and I knew we weren't going to be teased mercilessly about it, we'd probably be doing the same thing.

Fang reached over and placed his hand over mine-just as affectionately as what Iggy and Ella were doing, but _so_ much less obvious.

I smiled a little, happy for the first time in...well, a while.

But, like always, just as I'm starting to actually enjoy my life, devil-spawn has to show up and ruin everything.

Enter: Jeb Batchelder.

*****TL*****

"What are _you_ doing here?" I demanded. Every time Jeb comes to see us, something terrible happens to us immediately afterwards, and I'm kinda attached to the normalcy I have here. The fact that Jeb never actually _answers_ a question unless his life is in immediate danger makes interacting with him that much more infuriating.

"I just dropped by for a visit, Max. I wasn't aware that visiting my family was a crime." Jeb had the gall to look hurt.

"Bull," I growled. "You gave up _family_ when you sold us out to the whitecoats," I snarled. I normally don't do the bitter resentment thing, but this was a special case. Jeb was the first person (besides Fang) that I had ever trusted completely, and he turned on us. He just split in the middle of the night when I was twelve, and left me and Fang and Iggy to look after the little ones _by__ourselves._

Family my foot.

"I only did what I had to." Jeb said sadly.

"It's too late for apologies, Jeb. Do you have something to say? I was _really_ enjoying my breakfast, and now you're kind of ruining it."

Jeb sighed. "I need your help."

I just stared at him. And then I laughed a little, shocked. "You.." I spluttered. "You need my _help_?" I started cackling again.

Jeb nodded.

"What for? I thought the mighty Jeb didn't need anyone's help. Isn't that what you taught us? To learn how to be self-sufficient? To watch each other's backs and take care of our own? Well, congratulations Daddy dearest, because that's exactly what I'm doing...Except I never thought I'd have to protect them from you." I clenched my fists as my emotions ran wild. I tossed my fork onto my plate, no longer hungry. I got up and turned to leave.

"I know what the Voice said, Max." Jeb said.

Curse Jeb and his maddening ability to turn me into a glutton for punishment-now I _had_ to find out if he could make sense of the Voice's cryptic message.

I turned to face him, teeth clenched, wings twitching with unease. "You'd better not be screwing with me, Jeb."

Jeb shook his head solemnly. "I wouldn't dream of it."

I smirked, knowing how much it would bother him, and crossed my arms. _We'll__see__about__that._ "So, Mr. Oracle, what's your take on all of this?"

"Well," Jeb began, but he was interrupted by the grenade that shattered the kitchen's bay window and came hurtling into the room.

Making life and death decisions has become second-nature to us all, and, sadly, having someone interrupt breakfast by throwing a grenade through the window isn't the worst thing that's happened to us by a long shot.

But, it's still really freaking annoying.

I'm already rolling under the table, praying that I don't feel it when I get blown to smithereens.

Dimly, Fang's almost-panicked bellow registers with my brain. "_Down! __Everybody __down!_" _Crap, __crap, __crap!_

I under the table, hands over my ears as Fang screamed:

"_Down!_"

_**Boom!**_

Everything was white-noise. The kitchen exploded into chaos as debris flew everywhere, battering me on all sides until Fang dove on top of me, crushing the breath out of me.

I tried to suck in a breath, at exactly the wrong moment, inhaling nothing but dust and plaster. My ears were ringing, like television static; I was pretty sure at least one of my eardrums had burst.

And then the sound filtered back, and all I could hear was Jeb's godawful moaning.

That's when I really started looking around. "Report!" I snapped, trying to sound leaderly as I choked on a cloud of fragmented plaster.

"I'm good." Fang grunted, rolling off of me.

"Okay here," Iggy replied helping a dazed Ella out from under the ruined table.

" Are we still alive?" Ella wondered, holding a hand to a cut above her eye.

"'Fraid so, sweetheart." Iggy murmured, hugging her close.

Ella just stood there for a moment, before she remembered that Iggy was blind. "Um, this way, Iggy." She led Iggy by the hand, picking her way carefully over the debris...and then she screamed.

Jeb was lying under the remains of the destroyed refrigerator in a pool of his own blood.

I wanted to puke when I looked at him-and that's saying something. I just couldn't imagine how someone could sustain such gruesome injuries and continue to live.

Don't worry, I won't go into too much detail-no need to make the squeamish folks suffer.

Fang helped me drag what was left of Jeb out from under the ruined fridge.

Iggy crouched next to the Jeb, fingers fluttering over his body, cataloging injuries. "Oh. Oh, man...this is bad."

Ella wrapped her arms around Iggy's midsection, pressing her face against his chest. "Can we go somewhere else?" her voice trembled. "I don't wanna see this..."

Iggy hugged her. "It's okay..."

Fang glanced at me over his phone as he dialed 911, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing.

_We're __screwed._

_*****TL*****_

The paramedics rolled up in the ambulance almost immediately after the call went out.

Good thing too, Jeb was _really_starting to look worse-for-the-wear.

And the moaning had stopped; I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that yet—I was pretty sure it was a bad sign.

The paramedics burst through the front door—what was left of it, anyways—and their jaws hit the floor. "What happened in here?" One of them gasped as they started attempted to extricate Jeb out from under the massive stainless-steel appliance.

Gazzy shuffled into the room, mouth slack, his blonde hair sticking up in tufts, mussed from sleeping. That kid can sleep through _anything_.

And apparently, so could Angel, who had yet to make an appearance.

As he surveyed the wrecked kitchen, Gazzy looked almost...disappointed.

"Aw man, I missed all the good stuff, _urlchhh!_" Gazzy was promptly sick when his eyes came to rest on Jeb's mangled form. "What _happened?_" he demanded.

"Someone decided to top off breakfast with a grenade." Iggy explained, having backed away from Jeb so the emergency personnel could examine him properly.

"_Whoa_!" Gazzy drawled for a moment, before realizing that an awestruck gasp was not the appropriate response in this situation. "Uh, I mean...that sucks." he finished weakly.

"Damn straight, skippy." Iggy replied.

I shot Iggy a glare over the Gasman's head for swearing in front of him, before remembering that he was, you know, _blind_.

"I'm glaring at you Ig," I told him.

Iggy just smirked, and I knew he knew the gesture would get under my skin.

I'd have to throttle him later...

Angel slouched into the kitchen next, smearing sleep from her eyes with the back of her hand. "Max?" She wondered, still out-of-it. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure." I admitted. There was no point in lying to her, she'd just pick the real answer out of my mind anyway; even though I've told her on several occasions not to use her abilities on me or Fang.

Angel slouched into the kitchen next, smearing sleep from her eyes with the back of her hand. "Max?" She wondered, still out-of-it. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure." I admitted. There was no point in lying to her, she'd just pick the real answer out of my mind anyway; even though I've told her on several occasions not to use her abilities on me or Fang.

"We were attacked." I said simply; I didn't really have anymore information to give her. "I don't know who by or what for. But, we're okay for now.

The sound of the police cars rolling up the driveway immediately put me on edge; I shifted closer to Fang. I did _not_ want to hang around to be interrogated by the boys in blue, especially considering the reason they were here in the first place.

I glanced at Fang. "Minute bags?" I mouthed.

Minute bags were something Fang and I had developed after the debacle at Anne Walker's place in Virginia. Up until now, we never had a place to keep any 'Minute Bags" since we were constantly on the run.

Once we'd moved in with my mom, and it looked like things were going to be a little more permanent, We'd packed our minute bags—backpacks with a week's worth of clothing and supplies in case we needed to leave in a hurry.

Fang nodded.

I silently signaled the Flock and edged back my bedroom.

Ella helped Iggy with his things and we met back in the kitchen in thirty seconds just as the first officers were getting out of their squad cars..

I snatched a knife out of the holder by the stove and shoved it in my bag—I _hate_ being weaponless—and moved for the back door, motioning for the flock to follow.

Even with my super-spy stealth skills, we couldn't evade the cops. These guys literally had all their bases covered; there was already an officer by the door.

I glanced at Fang as the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Something wasn't right.

Fang's almost-imperceptible nod told me that he felt it too, and it didn't take long to figure out what it was.

As one of the officers shut the back door to his car after retrieving a clipboard, I saw it.

I jerked by head to the window above the sink and sprinted for it; Fang was right on my heels as I smashed through it.

The last thing I had time to think before the chaos started was: _Cops don't carry M-4 Assault Rifles._

**Like it? Hate it? Worth continuing? Review!**

**Catch you on the flipside,**

**~Script**


	2. Hard Contact

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed/favorited this story. You guys are awesome!**

_**Chapter II: Hard Contact**_

The butt of a rifle slammed into the side of my face.

_Hard._

My vision flashed white and I felt a burst of blood in my mouth; and then something that felt like a tooth started rattling around in my mouth.

As much as I hated his guts, Jeb's advice had never failed us once. Even through the pain, Jeb's voice filtered back to me from what felt like a lifetime ago.

_Don't think._

_ You're genetically engineered to be superhuman. Your instincts and reflexes are all faster, sharper, and more lethal than any human. Go with the flow._

I might've been superhuman, but it still hurt like hell to be slammed in the face with the butt-end of an assault rifle.

_If you're in pain, you shake it off. It's just a sensation—you can ignore it._

And I did.

I made myself shake it off, made myself buckle down and planted my foot into the officer's guts—I felt bad about hurting a cop, but it had to be done. I brought my knee up under his chin as he sucked air like a dying fish, and then he slumped over.

Fang was already stripping him of his gun and spare ammo before I could say anything. I knew that Fang knew how I felt guns.

"Fang," I started.

"Don't." Fang almost snapped. "It's not for the cops. You know me better than that."

I nodded. Before I could say anything else, the cop's radio squawked.

_"Team one in position. Breaching now."_

Fang met my eyes instantly, and as much as I hated the fact—Iggy, Nudge, Gazzy, Angel, and Ella were still inside.

Fang and I went back in through the broken kitchen window in the same instant that the front door splintered and smoking cylinders rolled in through the ruined doorway.

I knew what they were at a glance; the sociopaths at The School had no qualms about using them against us when we became_ disorderly_.

Tear gas.

Fang gritted his teeth and dove into the cloud of smoke; I was right behind him.

My nose and eyes immediately began to burn, my throat constricted. _Get over it, Max_. I told myself. _You're tougher than this._

Angel slammed into me, her skinny arms winding around my middle. "Max, you're okay!"

I ruffled her hair and shooed her toward the broken window. "'Course I am, kiddo. I'm the Invincible Max, remember? Get out the window and head for the woods, we'll meet you out there in a sec. Have you seen your brother or Iggy, or Ella?"

Angel shook her head. "I couldn't see anything...the smoke was too thick."

I nodded, wiped my eyes, and put on my brave face, trying to hide how terrified I was. These guys were much more coordinated, much more efficient than the Erasers had been. "I'll find them. Meet us by the shack in the woods."

I fished my cell phone out of my back pocket—a gift from Mom, one that I had only grudgingly accepted because she wouldn't worry as much if she could get a hold of me when she needed to. In my opinion, they were too easy to track.

In any case, it came in handy at the moment, so I tossed it to Angel. "If the phone doesn't ring in ten minutes, bail. We'll catch up with you."

Angel nodded, without batting an eye. "Got it."

And then she split, leaving me alone in the smoke.

My eyes burned, my nose wouldn't stop running, and my throat felt like it was closing up—whatever they were using, it was effective.

"Iggy!" I coughed. "Gaz! You guys in here,"

A dark shape hurtled at me from out of the smoke, and I reacted on instinct, snapping my fist out to catch what felt like a glass visor—it broke against my fist, and little slivers of glass embedded themselves in my knuckles.

Ouch.

As the shape slumed over, I realized that it was a SWAT team member in full riot gear—these guys were serious.

"Ella!" I heard Iggy shout, and I moved toward his voice as quickly as I could—I couldn't see through the gas, which was not at all wearing off.

"Max," Fang grunted, and it sounded like he was working hard. "If you're not,"

More fisticuff-like sounds.

"_Too_ busy, I could use some help."

I fought my way through the smoke to where Fang was taking on a few more SWAT guys with Iggy's help; Ella was out cold on the floor—the Taser on the floor nearby was probably the cause of that...

The expression of rage and panic on Iggy's face scared me a little—but not so much that I couldn't put down the guy coming at Iggy's back with a nightstick.

I took a heavy combat boot to the gut and almost gave up my breakfast, but I fought through the pain, knocking the guy flat on his butt with my shoulder, I scooped Ella off the floor and slung her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Almost as an afterthought, I scooped up the Taser and stuffed it into the waistband of my jeans.

I didn't really feel like a 'gangsta' I just hoped that all the running and fighting wouldn't jostle it too much so it tazed me before I had a chance to use it if I needed it.

"Fang, time to go!" I shouted once I realized that we were no longer under attack, at least not right in that second.

Fang nodded and picked one of the cops' radios off the floor, fitting the earpiece into his ear.

He tossed one to me and I followed his lead.

"This way, Ig," Fang said as we headed toward the back of the house.

Gazzy was by the window, nursing a bloody nose and a black eye, but looking altogether pretty proud of himself.

"Thanks for the help guys," he quipped.

"Sorry bud, we were a little busy too." Fang replied, although there was a note of genuine remorse in his voice.

"Is Ella okay?" Gazzy asked.

I nodded. "She'll be fine." I reached out to ruffle his hair, and he made a face.

"Nudge got out, she went to meet Angel by the shack in the woods," Gazzy said, and held out his fist.

"Fistbump, Iggy, those flash-bangs were _awesome_."

Iggy bumped the Gasman's outstretched fist, and I rolled my eyes. I should have known that explosives had something to do with the stupid grin on his face...

"Let's get a move on before they realize we took out their first team; the second one won't be far behind." I said, clapping my hands.

"You have to admit," Gazzy said as we climbed throught the broken kitchen window again. "We were pretty badass."

I gave him a stern glare—he knew better than to curse, but Iggy and Fang were rubbing off on him. "Watch the glass, Ig,"

We crossed the yard, quickly and silently, and we had almost made it to the woods when the radios squawked.

"_Team One, this is Command. Give us a sitrep."_

Fang shook his head, keeping me from responding.

"_Team One, please respond."_

"...Targets...own. Repeat...gets neutralized." Fang said, cleverly pausing so it sounded like he was breaking up.

"_Team One, code in, prompt Echo,_"

I froze. I'd seen all of the _Bourne_ movies, and if this was anything like that we were screwed.

Fang dropped his radio onto the grass and crushed it beneath his boot. He looked at me, then at the woods, then back to me. "Think we can make it?"

_No,_ I thought. But what I said was: "No sweat," and we bolted.

We had just cleared the first line of trees when the voice came over the radio in.

_"Team One is down, dispatch the Preadators."_

I had just enough time to wonder what the heck a Preadator was, and then a massive, muscular shape bulleted out of the trees and tackled me to the ground.

My vision flashed white as my head cracked against a knotted tree root, and then something sharp raked across my back, and I immediately felt blood begin to flow, soaking into the waistband of my jeans.

My vision was still too fuzzy to be useful, but I could hear the thing coming for me again. Without really thinking about it, I whipped out the Taser and blasted the thing with it. It howled, and then there was a loud thud as it crashed to the ground.

I forced myself up onto my knees, trying to think through the gauze in my head. My vision cleared, and I wanted to be sick at the sight of the thing.

It was human, or at least, mostly-human, at least down to the legs. Its legs were masses of sinewy muscle, but the knees were reversed, like a lion or a tiger, and the soles of its feet had pads and claws.

I had to give them props, even though it made my life a whole lot harder—the scientists had finally figured out that cats were much more efficient hunters than dogs.

The things arms were similarly constructed, but the claws on its fingertips seemed to be retractable. Its mouth was cracked open, and I had just enough time to make out the shape of fangs between its lips before a gust of positively rancid breath blasted me in the face.

Yuck.

You would think, for all the gazillions of dollars these companies make annually, they could at least invest in some Crest or something...

"Max, what the hell are you _doing_? Let's _go!_" Fang shouted. His hand closed around my arm and hauled me to my feet.

I sprinted after him, Iggy, Gazzy, and Ella, and we had just about reached the shack when I heard Angel's voice cry out.

"_Max, help!_"

I was fast, but Fang was faster.

We burst into the clearing where Angel was, and the Preadator had Angel pinned to the ground, its teeth at her throat.

There was a deafening _bang_ as Fang took aim and fired his gun, taking the thing cleanly through the head.

Shock threatened to freeze me in place, but I forced myself to move—there would be plenty of time for me to have a mental breakdown later; assuming we lived through this.

"Are you okay, Angel?" I asked kneeling down next to her.

"I'm okay, I think," Angel said, and then her eyes got huge. "Max, behind you!"

I turned, and I wish I could say I was surprised to see a small army of Preadators swarming out of the woods, but that was just how my day was going at this point.

_Crap..._

**Thoughts, anyone? Review!**

**Catch you on the flipside,**

**~Script**


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